


wiegenlied

by willurosinmybow



Category: Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF, twoset violin
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Insomnia, M/M, Sharing Clothes, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22251403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willurosinmybow/pseuds/willurosinmybow
Summary: Brett can’t fall asleep. Until he find something of Eddy’s that helps.
Relationships: Breddy - Relationship, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 10
Kudos: 303





	wiegenlied

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [【授权翻译】wiegenlied)摇篮曲](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29391051) by [windyfine29168](https://archiveofourown.org/users/windyfine29168/pseuds/windyfine29168)



When Brett can’t sleep, he goes wandering through his house. Touching familiar things, making sure everything is set in its right position, until his hands and feet are cold and he feels like a ghost. Recently every night has been a sleepless one. Every inch of his house has been examined and re-examined in his sleepless wanderings... or so he thought, until he comes across a crumpled shirt thrown carelessly under a chair. He picks it up and smooths it with his hands, holding it up to the dim light filtering in through the blinds from the street. 

Ah. Now he remembers. It’s Eddy’s shirt from a few days ago, when he came over for filming and realised he wasn’t wearing their merch. 

On a sudden impulse, Brett pulls his shirt over his head and puts on Eddy’s instead. The cotton is cold against his skin, but he hardly notices. Immediately he’s surrounded by Eddy’s scent. The shirt is an oversized one, with wide sleeves - it looks cool on Eddy, but probably looks ridiculous on Brett, like he’s drowning in it. Brett doesn’t care. He crawls into bed and quickly falls asleep.

*

By the second night, the shirt doesn’t smell like Eddy anymore. Brett puts it on anyway and stares up at his dark ceiling. He can feel the fabric touching him, enclosing him, more like a hug than a second skin. He feels like a different person, someone more confident, spontaneous. Fearless. He lets all of his worries and doubts swirl out of his mind as he drifts.

*

The next time Eddy comes over, Brett makes sure the shirt is well hidden under his pile of laundry so he doesn’t have to give it back. It’s not as weird as it seems. For the first time in ages he’s been getting good sleep. It’s his good luck charm, and he’s not going to let Eddy take it away.

*

After the third night of tossing and turning, then pacing around the house, Brett has to admit his good luck charm has worn off. So maybe the next time he goes over to Eddy’s house, he wanders into Eddy’s bedroom. Maybe he snatches up the first t-shirt on the dirty laundry pile and casually drops it into his bag. It’s not stealing, technically, if Brett intends on giving it back. And he’s sure Eddy wouldn’t mind if he knew why Brett needed it... except it would be super weird to explain it, so Brett’s just taking a shortcut. Brett can sleep, and Eddy doesn’t have to know.

“You alright?” Eddy says suddenly, and Brett jumps, ripping his guilty thoughts away from the shirt hidden away in his bag. 

“Uh, yeah. Wh-why?” he stutters. 

“Dunno. You just seem really... tense,” Eddy says. 

Brett’s heart is beating like an unstable metronome, erratic and wrong. “I’m just really stressed,” he says, and then a good excuse comes to him. “About the Tchaik. Which I still don’t forgive you for, by the way.”

Eddy groans. “I’m sorry!” he says for the millionth time. “Look, I’ll make it up to you somehow, I swear. I’ll... I dunno, I’ll help you practise?”

Brett looks at him, unimpressed. 

“Wait, I know!” Eddy says. “I’ll accompany you!”

“On the piano?”

“Yeah!” Eddy says with the look of a man who has many regrets about what just came out of his mouth. “Sure. I’ll start looking at the part... today... “

“I’ll leave you to it,” Brett smirks, clapping Eddy on the shoulder on his way out the door. Mission complete.

*

“Ok, we have a problem,” Eddy says, and Brett’s heart jumps into his throat as he whips his head around to look at Eddy. There’s no way Eddy can know... right? Right?

“I called my sister for piano advice,” Eddy says. “You know, on how to learn Tchaik in... we got six months, seven months, you reckon? She just laughed at me and hung up.”

Brett starts snickering. “It’s too hard, isn’t it?”

Eddy groans and buried his head in his arms. “Shut up.”

“Too bad you’re not Ling Ling,” Brett teases him. Eddy’s head pops up, indignant. “Or Lang Lang.”

“True. Lang Lang wouldn’t even need to practise 40 hours a day,” Eddy muses. “Anyway, I thought of another idea. I’ll accompany you... on violin!”

“You’re going to play the entire orchestral part on one violin?” Brett says skeptically. 

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds stupid,” Eddy pouts. 

“No, that sounds hilarious,” Brett says. “You’re definitely gonna do it.”

*

Ok, so maybe he has a problem, Brett admits, looking at the giant pile of size large shirts in the middle of his bed. He doesn’t know when his collection got so out of control, and he can’t just return all of Eddy’s shirts in one go. He’s going to have to be subtle about this, so Eddy doesn’t notice. Any more than he already has, that is.

“This is the second time I’ve had to do laundry this week,” Eddy complains over the phone, his voice simultaneously muffled and too loud, phone smashed between his shoulder and mouth as he multitasks. Brett can hear the sound of the washing machine as it starts up. “I swear, some monster is eating all my clothes while I’m sleeping. I seriously don’t understand.”

“Hmm,” Brett says. “Maybe they’re hiding under your bed or something? The clothes, I mean. Not the monster.”

“Nope. I cleaned my entire room and everything.” Eddy sighs. “I guess I gotta go shopping. Want to come?”

“Sure,” Brett says, feeling a little guilted into it. Eddy can buy new shirts and he won’t miss his old ones after all.

*

“Aw, that’s cute,” Eddy says over Brett’s shoulder.

Brett’s touching the sleeve of a light pink hoodie, and he jerks his hand away like he’s been burned. “You think?”

“Yeah, it’ll look good on you,” Eddy says easily. “Try it on. Tryyyyyyyyy it.”

Brett sighs and finds his size, then pulls it over his head. “It probably looks stupid,” he says. Pink is for Eddy and k-pop boys, not him. 

“Nah, it looks great. Seriously, bro. If you’re not buying that, I’m buying it for you.”

Brett heaves a sigh, but he’s secretly pleased. “Ok, ok, I’ll get it,” he says. “What about you?”

Eddy shows him the t-shirts he’s found, 3 black, one striped, and one light green. “5 should be enough, you think? Maybe I should get a couple of white ones, just in case.”

“Not a bad idea,” Brett says.

*

Brett dreams that Eddy is chasing him over a snow-covered landscape. “You stole all of my clothes,” Eddy is shouting. “For that your punishment is playing the entire Tchaikovsky violin concerto while hula hooping! Naked!”

Brett runs faster. If Eddy can’t catch him, then he can’t make him do anything either. Unfortunately it’s snowing and he’s slipping with every step he takes. He steps on a patch of ice and immediately goes down. Eddy trips and lands on top of him, and they both gasp for breath. 

“What do you have to say for yourself, hey?” Eddy says, his face so close to Brett’s. Brett’s freezing and burning up at the same time, shame flooding his veins.

“I - I - “ Brett stutters, stalls. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” Eddy growls. “I don’t think so. I think I’m going to arrest you and send you to... “ he leans down and whispers into Brett’s ear, “the viola section.”

“Nooooo,” Brett protests, writhing beneath Eddy, trying to break free. “I promise, I won’t do it again.”

“That’s what they all say,” Eddy says. “I know better than to trust the word of a thief and a liar like you. Now hold still, or I can’t promise it won’t hurt... “

*

Brett wakes up feverish and shivering, his head pounding. He crawls out of bed for long enough to go to the toilet and take paracetamol with a glass of water, then gets right back into bed again, all of his limbs shaking from the exertion. He grabs his phone and shoots off a quick text to Eddy, then drifts off into sleep again, hoping this time it’s not full of nightmares.

*

Brett: SRSLY DEAD NO FILMING TODAY

Eddy: bro

Eddy: it’s almost summer

Eddy: how r u sick again? :(((

Eddy: made u tea but don’t want to wake u. be back tomorrow to make sure ur not dead

*

When Brett wakes up again, there’s a cup of steaming hot tea on his night stand. “Eddy?” he calls out into the dark. The sun’s already gone down. Somehow he’s slept away the entire day. He fumbled for his phone and reads the messages. Eddy must have just gone.

He drinks the tea slowly. He’s so cold he’s shivering, and the tea is a blessing in disguise. Just the simple act of sitting up and sipping makes him tired, and once he’s done with the tea he snuggles back under the covers, pulling them tight up to his chin. 

It almost feels like Eddy’s in the room with him, cradling him against his chest, rocking him to sleep. Brett clutches the shirt, snuggling it close to his face.

*

It takes Brett a few days to catch on to what happened. In his defence, he was sick. Staring down at the green shirt on his bed, which Brett definitely hasn’t stolen from Eddy (yet), the facts are undeniable.

1\. Eddy came by when Brett was sick. He saw Brett sleeping curled around all of Eddy’s shirts like a weird dragon.   
2\. Eddy knows Brett took all of his shirts.  
3\. Eddy left the shirt he was wearing for Brett. It _smelled_ like him still.   
4\. Eddy left his shirt  
5\. for Brett  
6\. what  
7\. did it mean???

Is there a casual way to bring up “so, I’ve been stealing all your shirts for months and now you know and why are you giving me more have you thought this through but also can we never talk about this ever again”? No, no there is not. 

What is Eddy doing?

What is Brett doing? What _is_ Brett doing? God, he’s so screwed.

*

With a deep breath, Brett dumps all of Eddy’s shirts into the washing machine in one go. It doesn’t matter, anyway. They could be anyone’s shirts at this point. On second thought, he digs through them until he finds the green one, and pulls it out. Eddy gave that one to him. He’s keeping it.

Two hours later, he folds them and stacks them neatly into a duffle bag. The next time he goes over to Eddy’s he brings it along with his violin. 

“Whatcha got in there?” Eddy says almost immediately, eternally curious. 

“I found some of your shirts at my place,” Brett mumbles. “I threw them in the laundry along with mine, so they’re clean and whatever.”

“Oh, cool. Thanks,” Eddy says, with like absolutely zero surprise whatsoever. “D’you want this?” He pulls off his shirt and tosses it at Brett, who’s too surprised to do anything but catch it. “I have to change into merch anyway.”

He saunters into his bedroom, shorts riding low over his hips. Brett stares at the long line of Eddy’s naked back, then down at the shirt in his hands. Quickly he stuffs it into his bag before Eddy changes his mind.

*

“You know, I don’t do anything... weird with them, right?” Brett gets out desperately one day. He was on the verge of breaking for a whole two weeks now (a whole two weeks where Eddy gave him his dirty shirts and Brett returned at the end of the week clean like some kind of weird laundry service), and today is finally the day.

“What do you do with them?” Eddy asks, looking intensely curious, eyes almost glowing. He puts his chin on his hands, his best innocent “tell me a story” look. 

“I just... wear them, usually,” Brett mumbles with a shrug. “It helps me sleep. I just... couldn’t, for awhile, until I found that shirt that you left. I guess it just helps me not feel alone.” Brett doesn’t realize how truly pathetic that sounds until he’s said it out loud, and it’s too late to take back. 

Eddy looks... weirdly guilty, somehow. “Aw, you’re like a puppy.”

“What?”

“You know. When you have a puppy, you have to train it to sleep away from you. So you leave it a shirt or something that smells like you so it doesn’t feel lonely.”

Brett scrunches his face, but he can’t deny the truth. “What did you think I was doing with them, anyway?”

It’s Eddy’s turn to mumble. “Ah, you know. The usual.”

Brett continues to stare at him. 

“I can’t say anymore. I don’t want to sully your pure, innocent ears,” Eddy says, and smirks like a fiendish demon. Never mind, Brett doesn’t want to know.

*

Eddy jots a few more notes down in the margins of his music, then turns to Brett. “Let’s take a break.”

“No, it’s ok, let’s get through the movement,” Brett says. They’re going through the third movement to see how Eddy’s accompaniment works, and of course it’s slow going. It doesn’t help that Brett sounds like shit. Everything feels slightly off today, his left hand, his bow, his ear. He’s uncertain about notes, rhythms, everything that should be as familiar as air to him by now. 

“Nah, I need a break,” Eddy says, getting up and stretching, his black shirt riding up over his belly. “Hey, do you want to go for bubble tea?”

“No!” Brett explodes. “I just want to finish this. Stop trying to coddle me. You don’t need a break, you think _I_ need a break.”

“Dude,” Eddy says, moving to Brett and taking the violin from his hands. “We both need a break. And I can _hear_ how tense you are. If you keep this up, you’re gonna play your way to an injury.”

Brett huffs a sigh. Eddy’s right. He hates that Eddy’s right.

“Want a neck rub?” Eddy suggests after a while, tentative like he thinks Brett will snap at him again. 

All of the fight’s gone out of Brett. His day sucks, and he officially gives up. If Eddy wants to give him a massage and buy him bubble tea, Brett’s not going to stop him. “Fuck. Yes.”

“Go to my bed, it’ll be easier.”

Eddy’s pillow smells distinctly like Eddy, and Brett can feel himself relax immediately as he sinks down onto the duvet even before Eddy touches him. He closes his eyes, burying himself in darkness. Eddy’s fingers are gentle against his tense muscles, not trying to rip him apart, just slowly helping him loosen up.

Eddy’s warm hand slides up Brett’s back, under his shirt. “Take this off, ok?” Brett helps Eddy get his t-shirt off, and then Eddy is climbing on top of Brett and straddling his arse, then going to town on him with his hands. It’s so good. Eddy’s hands are so warm, and Brett feels like liquid under his touch. He takes it back. All of the frustrations of the day have been worth it, to get him this. 

Eddy’s hands slowly traverse their way down Brett’s spine, massaging muscles Brett didn’t even know he had. It’s the perfect touch, firm enough to not tickle, unerringly finding every place that Brett is sore. It feels incredibly good. Too good. 

Brett doesn’t know when it crossed the line for him, but by the time Eddy’s hands reach the edge of his waistband, he’s breathing hard into the crook of his elbow, biting his cheek to keep from moaning. 

Eddy slides off of Brett, pats him on the shoulder. “Turn over,” Eddy says, his voice cheerful, completely his normal self. 

“I can’t,” Brett says, voice cracking.

Eddy touches his shoulder again, a long, lingering stroke. “Turn over,” he says, his voice soft and small, as gentle as his touch.

Brett rolls over, away from the edge of the bed. He bites his lip, watches Eddy as Eddy’s gaze tracks over Brett’s bare chest down to the obvious bulge in his shorts, as Eddy prowls onto the bed on all fours, suddenly graceful. He straddles Brett and leans down, putting his face right up against Brett’s, their noses butting into each other. Like he wants to kiss, but doesn’t know how. 

Not that he doesn’t know how, Brett realises. Eddy wants Brett to be the one to kiss him. What a ridiculous boy. Brett draws it out, rubs his nose against Eddy’s, turns his head so his lips graze Eddy’s jawbone and his cheek, teasing until he can hardly stand it himself anymore. 

He catches Eddy’s lips with his own. Once they start kissing they don’t stop, for a very long time.

*

Brett dozes off, nose pressed into Eddy’s chest, warmth and Eddy’s familiar scent surrounding him. He falls into a deep, dreamless sleep. 


End file.
